A Dance with Dragons
by lumunoxcopy
Summary: "Mr. Malfoy, how is your wife?" "Dead," he replies with a smile whilst chewing a cookie. Hermione Malfoy smiles with slight pity at the unnerved intern. She, however, has more pity on herself because she is the one that gets to slowly dance through the complex steps of Draco's mind on the fragile floor of their marriage.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hullo. This is my come-back fic... I think I'm doing better~

**THERE IS NO DANCING INVOLVED IN THIS FIC**. Zilch. Notta. Nada et cetera et cetera (I can't dance and I can't even write properly so if you mix those two_ together_...)

Cough. Enjoy! :D (or not since this may be angsty in the future? Mwahahaha)

Oh and,_ Epilogue? What epilogue?_

**Disclaimer:** A Dance with Dragons is George R. R. Martin's. I haven't even reached that book yet. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter Everything. I only own the plot on this one. And ("spoiler") Starkid owns Pigfarts. :)

* * *

**A Dance with Dragons  
Chapter 1**

She starts with the series of questions Healer Ives gives to the interns before he comes in the private rooms.

"Mr. Malfoy, how is your wife?"

"Dead," he replies with a smile whilst chewing a cookie.

With a face of bewilderment, Intern Eve jerks her head to Mrs. Malfoy on the corner.

Hermione smiles with slight pity at the new girl. "We were, I suppose, going to file a divorce..." she drifts off, and then turns back to mindlessly rearrange the flowers Draco got from his mother.

"She's as good as dead," Draco tells the cookie he is currently inspecting before eating. "Right, Ms. Her-mi-oh-knee?" He glances at the woman.

His wife sighs. "She is."

The intern looks between the couple then writes the exchange on the pad. "Your school, Mr. Malfoy?" He shakes his head and she stares at him patiently. "Hogwarts, Durmstang, US schools...?" she coaxes.

Draco turns and waves a cookie at his wife, grabbing her attention. "Thanks for the cookies, Ms. Harmony." He grins.

She smiles sweetly at him. "No problem, Draco." He nods and continues to chew his cookie with a serious look.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He turns his attention at the girl in front of him and raises his nose a little higher - a pure Malfoy signature.

"Pigfarts," he says seriously and dismissively at her. He reaches for another cookie on the table between him and the blank faced intern.

Hermione laughs, almost a bit maniacally than supposed to. She walks over to the couch and sits beside him. She passes him a glass of milk from the end of the table. He smiles, showing a few cookie bits on his teeth, making her chuckle. She reaches for his hand that holds the half eaten cookie and guides it, dipping it into the glass of milk in her hand. His face shows absolute interest at the action and taste.

The young woman in front of them stares at the two and sighs. Sometimes she wishes that she took her cooking internship instead of starting one with Healer Ives.

"Do you know where Pigfarts is, Ms. Eve?" Draco asks minutes later, dipping another cookie into the glass an amused Hermione still held in her hands.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. Where is it?" She sighs impatiently at his horrified look.

"And you're a doctor?!"

Hermione shakes her head slightly when Intern Eve huffs. "Where, Mister Malfoy? Mars?"

* * *

"Can you stay with me tonight, Ms. Granger?" he asks softly with a pout to match, making her heart flutter.

She walks fluidly to his king sized bed – their bed - and sits by his side. He stares blankly at her, with his grey eyes as she says nothing, only taking his image in. She's near to him, and a second later as expected, his eyes flash brown. He gives her that charming smile that she feels - _is_ - unworthy for. His long fingers twirl a tendril on the side of her face as he speaks, "Don't look so sad, Ms. Hermy-onie."

She chuckles because, _really_, what can she say or do? She's supposed to be sad. "I can't stay with you tonight, Draco," she begins. "I can call your mother for you." She can never stay with him again on this bed.

He pouts. The idea of a grown man pouting – especially a tall and handsome man who capture Death Eaters _and_ has a license to kill – is a weird thought. But with the Spell, the dim light in their old bedroom, and his angelic face of pure innocence - he's perfect. Hermione thinks she could fall in love again like this.

"But she's not you."

She smiles with played amusement so he won't comment on her 'sadness'. She takes a wrapped cookie from her pocket and gives it to him. Her eyes are mischievous at this moment, and his smile widens. She makes a shushing sound and passes it to him. "Don't tell your mother," she whispers for effect. He wouldn't, and Narcissa wouldn't really mind. "Never," he whispers back and takes a bite.

He tackles her, 10 seconds later, asking for more when she refuses to give him another. The cream, silk sheets get messed like her brown hair, his pillows get scattered and they're both laughing like they're five again on their old bed. Yes, she thinks, she can fall in love like this again. She _is_ still in love.

* * *

She's not used to the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. She's used to their bedroom three doors to the left. It is the nearest, though.

It is not really a perk to hear his screams, but that's what she has planned to hear since the new arrangement. Hermione runs.

They're alive, his eyes. Grey, alive, scared, angry, confused. He may act like a child most of the time, but his strength is another matter. Instead of her holding him, he's holding her arms tightly. "_Hermione_," he harshly whispers. His face scrunches and he looks older, anger flickers on his face, and his grip tightens.

Lucius and Narcissa come through the door and stops as the younger couple continue to stare at each other, unmoving. The air is thick and prepared. "Dray-co," Hermione says slowly. His eyes flash brown and his grey ones are the same old stone.

He immediately hugs her; she freezes but holds him back seconds later by instinct. "I had a nightmare," he tells her. His voice is like a child again. Soft, small, and scared.

Narcissa gently places her hand on her shoulder. The older woman tells her that they will handle it. Lucius is getting a Dreamless Sleep Potion. She needs to rest, her mother-in-law repeats and repeats. Draco says almost incoherent works into her ear, they are rush but she still listens. All she hears is Draco's voice.

Narcissa taps her shoulder again gently - the pureblood woman's magic spark slightly from her fingers, making Hermione aware. This time she complies, letting Draco go, leaving him with the arms of his mother.

She walks almost dreamily back to her room. All she can hear is Draco's voice whispering, "_She's not dead, the mean woman is not dead, she's shouting at me, she's pushing me, she's not dead Hermy-oh-knee, she wants me..."_

She's not used to her new bed in the guestroom. This time she is thankful for it.

* * *

**A/N:** Ohh intrigue. The plot thickens. Hahaha :D

With this, I shall post the second chapter. :)

Anyone caught the AVPM/AVPS reference? Couldn't help it. _"Your school, Mr. Malfoy?" "Pigfarts."_ That line started this whole shebang and my challenge to write again~ Tell me what you think? Corrections? Review please! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: .. Maybe you didn't get bored from the first chap? :D

I'm trying to keep the chapters at least a thousand words but not more than two thousand...so yeah.

* * *

**A Dance with Dragons**  
**Chapter 2**

"We got him," Harry says, breathless. Her office door opened with a bang when her best friend jumped in with those three words. She wouldn't scold him for not knocking like the usual; all she can think of are those three little words: _We. Got. Him._

She immediately stands and runs to the door, but Harry blocks the way and holds her tightly. She shouts that she'll fire him and he tells her he doesn't care. The man is in a comma and the Aurors want him alive. She should want him alive also, he reminds her. Everyone wants the (_unofficial_) Head of Death Eater Security back he tells her again. They need the bastard alive.

Hermione sags into his arms, uncaring to the employees walking across her office. They're not looking but they're listening and she doesn't give a damn. They have got him. She has got him. She has Draco's cure.

"You can kill him later," Harry whispers a promise.

* * *

"I want to know more about Astoria," he says suddenly. Her head jumps up from her book. _Astoria? Who?_

"My wife," Draco reminds her. He says wife like it was the devil itself. Well, now it was like it is sour candy mixed with his sweet voice. _Wife? But I'm his -_ _Oh._

Hermione stares steadily at Draco. "What's with your sudden interest in her?"

He shrugs and takes another one of her cookies on the table between them. "Mum explained to me about marriage when I asked her why I call her mum and call dad _dad_. I used to call dad father, did you know that?" he adds in an afterthought.

She is silent and looks at the gardens in front of them. She came home early today; work is pointless after the news. She turns, giving him a soft smile. "I don't really know much...I'm pretty sure you do though."

He shakes his head and his mouth forms a small pout. "No, not really..." he says before his eyes turn blank. "I know she is pretty."

She blinks once, twice, thrice. "Maybe."

"She is. Beautiful even," he tells her with confidence. He looks up and stares at her like he's passing a message, like he remembers, like he doesn't hate her, like he doesn't have spurred moments of childishness, like he _knows_ her. "She's brilliant. Amazing. There are blurry images in my mind about her, of me and her. And they're rich with so much..." he's lost to look for the word, her breathing quickens, "...feelings, I still can't point my finger to it. But whenever I think deeply...I just feel hate. For her. For this amazing woman that I hate, that I love, and I don't remember meeting at all."

Hermione doesn't say anything. "I just don't remember why I hate her," he goes on sadly. "I don't like hating people for no reason, Ms. Gran-ger. I want to know why." It was a sweet child's whine coming out from his adult mouth.

She bites her lip and she feels utterly helpless. With a breath, she reaches for his clasped hands on the table between them. "When you first woke up from your sleep in the hospital, the first thing you said was _Wife_. You told healer Ives that you hate her. Then you told your mother that you're confused about her whenever you are asked of what you remember. You told me that you love brunettes," she chuckles at the memory, making Draco smile a little, "You told your father during dinner that you want to marry a muggle-born – do you remember that?" He shakes his head, confused. "Well you did. You asked me to start baking cookies after, for dessert you said." She sighs. What is she getting to? She isn't supposed to remind him. She didn't want to.

His eyes closes and when he opens it again, having the intensity of not the 4 year old he can be. "I want to marry you," he says. And she wants to cry because that's what he said _before_.

"_I want to marry you," he says like mentioning that the weather is a fine day to fly today. He looks down to unbuckle his seat belt after their pilot – Stewart – tells them that it's A-OK to go around the jet. They're on the way back to London after a visit to the President of the Philippines about expanding wand making._

_Her fingers freeze at the buckle and she chuckles almost a bit too awkwardly. "Is that a proposal, Draco Malfoy?" Her voice is a little high so she clears her throat when she looks down._

"_No," he shrugs, and she breathes through her closed teeth, calming her heart beats. She resumes unbuckling herself and prepares to change the subject. He stands suddenly, making her look up to him. He pulls her swiftly up from her adjacent chair and runs with her dragging behind as they pass the other passengers in the Ministry's private jet. They all smile at them both – even Percy. What?_

_He opens the safety latch of the jet and she screams at the force. Has he gone mad? She looks frantically and no one is there, even Cayet, her Head of Security who is most of the time always at her side. Did she bring back the wrong personnel?_

_The last thing she sees before she closes her eyes is his mischievous smile and he tells her that Stewart lied – they're just up fifteen hundred feet. But she doesn't give a damn since he's too strong for her and, just as she expected, there's no more carpeted floor beneath her feet. Only air. And clouds. And gravity pulling them down to her worse nightmares. _

_She tries to choke him but she is turned around deliberately. He swiftly shifts them and before she knows it, she's on a broom, between his arms. And he's humming. The prick._

_A minute late, he whispers into her ear that she can open her eyes now, she turns at him and glares, and he returns it with a smile, still looking forward. She does turn, too, and she is breathless – not from the fall anymore or the speed of his flying._

_It is dusk and they pass the city lights below, from above, the traffic and the illuminated buildings are gorgeous. She can feel the broom move swiftly faster, and they are suddenly both above the sea or ocean or bay. They are in one of the better islands – what the country should be known for - and the sun is just about to set, mixing with the reds, blues, orange and everything else from the smell of salt water, his scent and the soft music and partying from the beach._

_It was a simple thing, from all the climaxes in romance novels to the kisses in the rain to the singing waiters – a cliché from all the drop-down-on-one-knee business and the sappy love speech that women love. It was romantic for the romantics and for the cynics it's just a celestial being moving on to another heavenly thing, but it is like every dusk and dawn you spend with the person you know you can't live without, it's been done so many times before, but it is theirs. It's their cliché that she certainly did not expect._

"_Now, this is where my proposal is," he tells her. She swears she can hear his smirk. He would now have to start that sappy love speech that every woman loves to hear, but he is Draco Malfoy, he just doesn't do that sappy love speech before those four loaded words, and he knows that she is not every woman. His sappy speech is when he proceeds to capture her mouth, it is in an awkward angle but he manages to just tell her all the sappiness of being in love. And she has said yes, way before him asking her that he wants to marry her. Twice._

She chokes a bit, and she smiles, restraining herself. "Do you want to fly today, Draco?" she asks, her voice is tight but hopeful. After months, she has understood the ways his new self works.

His grey eyes flash brown and he grabs another cookie, holds her hand and pulls her up from her seat, her book way pass forgotten. "Let's go, Ms. Harmony!" She laughs with him and there are tears in her eyes. _Enjoy it while it lasts, Hermione_, she tells herself.

* * *

**A/N:** I stopped right there because didthatgetreallysappyohmygos himsorry. I wrote that part a long time ago since I started this fic quite back...lol.

And I get dizzy a bit when I read too much italics...am I the only one?

Review! (Is it still _in_ to tell people to review? There's this whole new format here than my fanfiction publishing days so i'm not so sure hahaha:) For a nicer touch, tell me what you think? :P


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Is anyone still alive from the sappiness? It's been ages since I've read something fluffy (all angst, angst, and angst which I think is bad for my health lol)

**HAPPY 2013! **

* * *

**A Dance with Dragons**  
**Chapter 3**

Hermione stares and stares at the badly shaved man lying down in front of her. He's bruised very badly from the worldwide chase with the Aurors and Hit wizards. Her grip tightens on the Godric Gryffindor's sword, and it is so tempting really. 23 deaths of both muggles and magical, 15 casualties that are _still_ in numerous hospitals. And she knows all of them personally and politically – Draco included.

It was all for her the _murderer_ writes in his notes which were found in a muggle flat in London. All. For. Her. She had to go to Spain and France for condolences to the family of the Ministers. She had to go to every other family she knows for each killed or injured badly. She needed to go because she wanted to.

The reason? Because she is expanding magic to muggleborns. To countries who can't afford the cost of a new civilization – of magic. It was the same bullshit when she was forced to start her term at age 19. She is now 27 and there are still cases that are so alike.

Her grip tightens more, that she is sure that there will be an intricate mark later on her palm. She lifts her hand and then the door opens. It's Cayet and he's staring at her. _Daring her_. Some of her entourage is behind him, standing patient and calm, but there is panic in their eyes. Harry is standing stonily there, being the right hand to the Head Auror, and her worried friend. Passing mediwizards also stop there, waiting if they are needed.

Still with eye contact, Hermione slowly and carefully lifts the sword higher. She opens her blazer and pulls out an envelope, she slides the miniature Godric's sword through, and it cuts open the letter easily. It was a gift from Neville. She is sure she hears breathes exhaling and some of the audience, including Harry, goes on to their jobs.

Cayet is one of the few still standing there at the door, staring at her. If Draco were still with them, he would be the one in Cayet's place or beside her already. She knows that Cayet and Draco would know that the little letter opener can still kill. They thought her themselves.

How she wishes...

* * *

What was his name? Rodric? Jerry? Terrace? Whatever the hell it is, she just calls him Dead.

It took 4 days for the Aurors to get his real identity. Would've been faster if Draco was there, they complained, and she stared and stared and stared at them, making them find the monster's true name with sweaty palms.

She gave in and had to call Draco into Mungo's.

Dead's already awake and he's a savage; breaking equipment, spells, and noses. He's bipolar, the Healer said. Bipolar my arse, she said. He's still a fucking monster.

She watches Draco looking at Dead through the one way glass window. "I don't think I know him, Ms. Her-mi-knee," he tells her sadly. Oh. Why did she agree to this again?

She looks up, him still taller than her even if his voice is small. So small. She gives him an even smaller smile, and then a cookie from her blazer pocket. "It's all right, Draco. You tried." She pats him gently on his back.

"I want to help you," he says driven, the cookie on his lips. "Can I go nearer?" He reaches for the door handle beside the window, and she instantly grabs his hand.

"No!" She would never put him into harm like that again. The asshole got close to him once, no mistakes again. "You can't," she tells him more softly.

"He's on a potion and he's restrained. He can't hurt me," he pouts at her, his grey eyes pleading.

She blushes and the thought of having kids like that passes her mind whenever he pouts. _Ugh that look!_ "It's still dangerous," she manages to say very softly.

Rookie, Cayet's second in charge for her security and every other security, clears his throat behind them. "I've talked to the Healers and Potter. They say it's secured now. He's been dosed a sea-worth of sleep potion – not enough to kill him though. They still have no idea how he managed to shake off the 5 bottles awhile ago." He steps back into the shadows.

Hermione bites her lips and slowly removes her grip on his hand. Draco smiles at her charmingly, and goes into the white room with as much courage of a true Gryffindor.

It only took three minutes – her watch says – but it felt like hours until he came back to her. His eyes are heavy; not bright like his moods, not alive when he wakes up, it's just heavy. Dead. Blank. Deep grey. She wanted to hug him, but restrained herself.

"Terrance Walpole. He took one sip of the Elixir of Life in '85 when he stole it. He's crazy. He killed a lot before and after the Elixar; Got locked up in Syria for years, Russia for months. He broke out. The reasons are still confidential from their Ministry. He came back to Britain a few months before Voldemort's Final, he was invited to dinner, and then he went missing a few days before the battle. He most likely got caught by Russians again, as the rumor goes underground. He's pureblood," he concludes, flat and emotionless.

She stares and thinks that this is why she hired him 7 years ago – no matter what everyone thought back then. Rookie's quick footsteps can be heard through the hall. Two new ones are heard moving towards them as a replacement.

Draco's eyes soften as he looks back up at her. "Can I have a cookie?"

She reaches into her pocket and gives him one. She bites her lip and finds his eyes soft and happy, so she stops stopping herself, and hugs him as he nibbles the cookie. He returns her sentiments.

* * *

There is a stick in front of her. No, Percy tells her, again, this is that bastard's wand. It's a stick, she deadpans him, a piece of crappy brown branch from a tree.

He touches it now, after 5 minutes of explaining to her that it is a wand without him touching it and telling her not to touch it since it is evidence, and the room grows brighter with a Lumos spell. She stares, first at the stick/wand, and second, a sharper look at Percy for wasting time.

He coughs awkwardly. "The Aurors told me to not touch it! And they took so long because they thought it was just a stick also," he says, exasperated.

Hermione grabs the stick/wand and walks briskly through her office doors, off to the Library and Percy calls the Investigation Office to go with her. Dead is smart, but she is Hermione Granger. She's smarter.

* * *

**A/N:** Too short for what I like...but tell me what you think? :D

Hermione stares a lot I noticed. oh well.

Some were confused at first...hahaha I apologize! I think this would get a bit more confusing... (mwahahaha kidding..maybe) I sort of like bringing things out slowlyyyy, making people confused lol.

**Aya Diefair**: Thank you for correcting that one! :D I already enjoy reading your reviews haha:)

I'll try to finish _most_ of this before school starts... (Jan. 7.. that's why I said _try_ hahaha)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: So apparently I shall update every week/Saturday.. because the first week of school just ended and I'm already exhausted to the 10th degree ugh.

Thanks for the reviews! :D

* * *

**A Dance with Dragons**  
**Chapter 4**

It's her third night. This time, Draco is with her. He's tired and sad that she isn't at the manor much anymore. _He needs to get used to it._

There is a bowl of cookies between them. He's taking each one eagerly. She's taking in the book's words eagerly. He hums this tune that she doesn't know the song to. The only sounds are books being opened, humming, and cookie chewing.

A book drops behind her and she ignores it. Someone taps her shoulder and she sees the green eyes of Sam, she's part of the Investigation Office, a newbie. "Yes?" Hermione almost snaps. No time should be wasted.

The girl points to a page of an old pocket book. Hermione reads it fast, her eyes trained already. "Thank you," she breathes, her eyes not leaving the page. She hears shuffling. Sam and the others start leaving and she gets whispers of good luck wishes and a courageous pat from Sam on the back (the I.O. is afraid of her). It's pretty pointless since they know that the Minister can definitely handle it.

"Found your Wally?" Draco asks with a smile, grabbing another cookie. She grins, maybe a little too Bellatrix-ly, but it fades just a few seconds later.

As if by instinct with her goodbyes, she clutches his leather jacket and she needs to stand from her seat, brushing her lips on his. Their lips fully meet in between from both ways. And it's sweet; literally, cookies, milk and creamy coffee. An unhealthy thing it is. What she's doing.

_Your phones aren't supposed to ring in an airplane, but the Malfoy Jet is another thing. "Was it always about the money?" he sounds in pain but she can tell that he's furious at the same time. "Was it the power? Did you finally grasp your master plan, now on your second term and close to your third?" She doesn't breathe. "Is that why you've been busy lately? Why you're finally enjoying Malfoy events? Purebloods finally agreeing with you?"_

"_No," she whispers, her voice lost. How can he think that? She enjoys because she's with him, because she is finally accepted in the Malfoy family. _

"_100 million galleons. You think I wouldn't notice?" his voice sneering. "I have more allies in Gringotts than your damn Ministry!" Of course he does, being the ghost-Chairman of Malfoy Industries. Maybe she was a bit too reckless with the transfer. _

She releases her hold slightly and pulls her face away with a sigh loaded with ghosts of goodbye kisses and wishes.

_"You could have just asked...it's our money," he says more softly. "And you're leaving me now? Are you actually and finally listening to those old coots in the Wizengamot? What the hell, Hermione." She doesn't say anything because she can't explain._

But _his_ fingers reach for her blazer and pulls her onto him. The bottom of her stomach hits the table between them as he stands for balance. He's kissing her with the ferocity of the Draco Malfoy she knows or used to know, and she gives back the same sentiments with the same degree.

_"Hello?" he shouts. "Are you seriously shutting up?"_

_"No!" she screams onto her phone. "I can't tell you!" She's flustered. "I don't want to discuss this on the phone, Draco. I'm coming back, I swear," she swears with promise. Her voice is low because she can just feel that someone is tracking her, listening to her, to him, to them._

_He makes a pfft sound on the other line. "After you make out with the President? Or maybe someone obviously more suited and more privileged than your dear husband…" Sarcasm is not lost in the miles between them. "Why don't you just tell me really. I know you're flying-"_

_"Because this is national crisis! Let me deal with this Draco." She hangs up because she doesn't want to deal with him now. Hermione then loads the pistol then places it in an untraceable bag to go through US Security – she's sure the someone isn't watching her. She needs to deal with this first.  
_

She lets go of him because it's a silly thing. A sin, really. Using your husband when he's not really sane is not a good thing. Right?

She forcefully sits back on the cushion padded chair, but Draco's still standing, his eyes are dull and dazed, his lips pink and his hair ruffled – how her fingers reached there is a mystery.

Hermione is sure that she is in the same state; the only difference is that her eyes are alive and screaming for the tears which she holds deep inside.

He finally sits back very slowly. He stares pensively at her. "I love you," he says very softly.

_"I will love you, and I already do, to insanity even, because you make me insane, love. And I will live for you, eternally. I will protect you, no matter what, even if you won't agree, I will still be always two steps behind. Since Cayet would obviously be one step behind you and he'd just glare at me if I even try to cross you." They all laugh and Cayet doesn't even hold back because it's true. "We will inevitably fight but we would inevitably love. Until death do we part. But let's hope otherwise, especially how we all know that you still go do suicidal trips - I mean, post-Gryffindor escapades - behind my back, ya know?" They all laugh again because it's all good humor - oh and it's true - and he loves her and her Gryffindor adventures._

Hermione reaches into her bag on the empty chair beside her, grabbing the stick of Dead on her left hand and her wand on her right. Her eyes heavily drops down on the yellow pages of the book, double checking if it goes with Dead's wand history of Draco's attack. It is correct.

Both wands point to the lost Malfoy in front of her as she reads while memorizing the incantation.

She finishes the last words of the spell as Draco grabs a cookie from the bowl and chews it slowly. She knows the reversing spell is done when he stops to chew. It's an old spell, no fancy light and no sound. The original one almost deadly if wanted to be. But Dead didn't want her husband dead. He wanted to torture her by watching her husband think she's dead.

It was so simple and precisely out of the notes of the spell book when Draco Malfoy closes his eyelids and opens them with brown pupils, then silver, then gold. He spits the half eaten cookie from his mouth and wipes the taste off his lips with his sleeve. "_Shitty taste_," he rasps with a pure silver glare onto her sad eyes. He stands and leaves the Ministry Library with speed, slamming the door, and the sound echoes through the silent room not a second later.

It was so simple with a flick of her wand to make the scattered books and the half empty cookie bowl go away. It was so simple to walk through the empty halls of the Ministry. It was so simple when two Aurors found her and walked in step with her back to her office – requested by Cayet they said. It was so relatively simple to floo back to the manor with a silent nod by the two Aurors. And it would be so unconditionally, innocently, simple to cry herself to sleep, three doors away from him.

But no, it would be too simple and out of the book to cry herself to sleep. She didn't sleep. The cries were ornate and fancy and so complicatedly mixed up all the feelings and memories in her and in her bones and to her skin and every living and dead cell inside her. It was a splash of colors that she cannot stop. Pain demanded to be felt. It did not want her sleep.

_He comes home to find her reading on his bed at his personal flat again. Sometimes she just likes to use this as an excuse for her to visit. _

"_It's comfy to read on," she says on the third time he finds her there uninvited. This was still new to them. He loosens his tie harshly because his work is actually busier than hers right now. When he reaches the bed, he removes the title from her hands and the bowl between her legs, placing them on the other side of the large mattress. _

_She is on her back with a laugh after a comment of his weight as he presses her down with his body. "It's also comfy for other things," he says with a smirk and mischievous eyes. She sticks her tongue out at him. _

_He tastes the crumbs of her baked cookies, which were made specially (and always) in his kitchen, in her mouth. "Merlin, that tastes horrible," he tells her with a face. Hermione rolls her eyes. "I know that. I made them when I was bor-" "Shh. I was kidding. They're greater than great. You should make me more." He captures her mouth again, ignoring the taste and her protest, because he likes to let her think that she's perfect to and for only him._

* * *

**A/N: **SOO tell me what ya think? :D (translation: review!)

I'm sorry with that sappy last line because I am a bit sad right now lol.


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